OFFSIDE

87

❝ I should be the one you choose. ❞
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Pablo's POV
Soon after lunch I wrap up the Nike shoot. It's been a long morning and afternoon, filled with flashes of cameras, quick outfit changes, and the constant buzz of the production team. By the time it's all over, my muscles are stiff, and I crave the familiar rhythm of training. There's nothing like a good session at the gym to shake off the fatigue of the day.

I arrive at the training facility to find the team already deep into their routine. From across the room, I spot Ferran, who is pedaling away on one of the stationary bikes, his gaze fixed on something far beyond the walls of the gym. With a quick nod to the coach, I make my way over, throwing my bag down beside the bike next to him.

"Mind if I join?" I ask, grabbing a towel from my bag and slinging it around my neck as I hop onto the bike.

Ferran looks up, a grin spreading across his face. "Not at all, hermano. Thought you'd be too wiped out after that shoot to come train."

I start pedaling, easing into a steady pace. "You know me, Ferran. Can't stay away for too long. Besides, I needed to get some movement in after standing around all day."

Ferran chuckles, shaking his head. "Fair enough. You missed a good party last night, by the way. Everyone was there."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Yeah? How was it?"

His eyes light up with excitement as he launches into a detailed account of the night before. "It was brilliant! The music was on point, drinks were flowing, and everyone was in a good mood. We even got a little dance-off going, and of course, I had to show them how it's done. And my friend was so happy that so many people came to his birthday party."

I can't help but laugh at the image of Ferran busting out his moves on the dance floor. He's always the life of the party, never one to shy away from the spotlight. "Sounds like a blast. Who else was there?"

"Pretty much everyone," he says, leaning back a bit as he pedals. "You should've seen it. Fermín was even showing off some moves—though he's no match for me, obviously." He shoots me a teasing look, and I roll my eyes playfully.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," I reply, still grinning. "How do you know that friend of yours?"

"We lived in the same street for years and became friends. He doesn't have many so never had a big birthday party. I wanted to give him that experience," Ferran smiles.

I smile to him. "That's very kind of you."

As the conversation drifts on, my focus starts to shift, settling into the familiar rhythm of the workout. My legs are burning in that satisfying way that tells me I'm working off the stress of the day. But then Ferran's tone shifts slightly, pulling me back from my thoughts.

"How's Elena doing, by the way?" he asks, his voice more casual than before, but there's a hint of something behind his words that catches my attention.

I furrow my brow slightly, confused by the sudden shift in topic. "Elena? She's fine, as far as I know. Why do you ask?"

Ferran's expression changes, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face before he quickly masks it with a smile. "Oh, I just heard she wasn't feeling well last night. Pedri had to take her home early."

My heart skips a beat, and I can feel my grip tightening on the handlebars. "Wait, what? Elena wasn't feeling well? Why didn't she say anything to me?"

Ferran raises his hands in a calming gesture. "I'm sure it's nothing serious, mate. She probably didn't want to worry you. You know how she is."

But I'm not so easily reassured. My mind is already racing, piecing together fragments of information that don't quite add up. Why hadn't Elena mentioned anything to me? Well we didn't speak much this morning, she was tired and I had an early call.

The thought of her feeling unwell and not being there to take care of her gnaws at me, creating a growing knot of concern in my chest.

Without saying another word, I let my gaze drift across the gym, searching for Pedri. It doesn't take long to find him—he's by the weights, setting up for a deadlift. His focus is entirely on the barbell in front of him, his face set in concentration as he prepares for the lift.

Ferran must have noticed the tension in my expression because he follows my line of sight and nods slightly toward Pedri. "I'm sure he can tell you more about what happened. But really, don't stress too much. Maybe she had too much alcohol."

But Ferran's words do little to ease the concern gnawing at me. My thoughts are already tangled in a web of questions and what-ifs, and there's only one person who can give me the answers I need.

I force myself to finish the set on the bike, trying to stay composed, but my mind is already elsewhere. As soon as I'm done, I wipe the sweat from my brow and make my way over to where Pedri is lifting. He has just completed a set, the barbell clanging back down on the floor with a dull thud as he exhales heavily, his muscles still tense from the effort.

"Pedri," I call out as I approach, keeping my tone as even as I can manage. "Got a minute?"

He looks up, a little surprised to see me standing there, but he nods and grabs his towel, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Yeah, what's up?"

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Ferran mentioned something about Elena not feeling well last night, and that you took her home. What happened?"

Pedri hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking over to Ferran before settling back on me. He shifts his weight slightly, clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah, she wasn't feeling great. I think it was just the heat or something. She seemed a bit off during the party, so I offered to take her home. I didn't think it was anything serious."

My concern deepens as I listen to him. If Elena had been feeling unwell, why hadn't she reached out to me? I can feel a mix of worry and frustration bubbling up inside me, but I try to keep my emotions in check. "Did she say anything to you about what was wrong? Did she mention how she was feeling?"

Pedri shakes his head, his expression earnest. "No, not really. She just said she felt sick and wanted to go home. I made sure she got inside and told her to rest. She didn't seem too bad, just tired."

I nod slowly, processing his words. I know Elena has a habit of downplaying things, especially when it comes to her own well-being. But the fact that she hadn't called me, hadn't let me know what was going on—it doesn't sit right with me. I'm her boyfriend.

"Thanks for looking out for her," I say finally, though there's an edge to my voice that I can't quite hide. "I'll check on her tonight."

Pedri gives me a reassuring nod, but I can tell he senses the underlying tension in my tone. "No problem, man. I'm sure she's fine."

I force a small smile, trying to push down the unease that is now gnawing at me. "Yeah, otherwise she would have told me this morning."

"She didn't want to disturb you because you had to get up early," he says. 

I nod. That's how Elena is.

"What time did you leave?" I ask. Pedri looks doubtful. "I'm not sure anymore. I think we left around one thirty am, but there was a hassle with taxis, so it was very late before we got to your house."

"Okay. Thanks Pedri."